9 Crimes
by Magical Me6666
Summary: His first crime committed. And already he feels dirty.


Title: 9 Crimes

Rating: PG13

Synopsis: Based around the idea behind the song '9 Crimes' by Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan. Lyrics used are from the same song. It will be in nine parts to match the format, this being the first.

Characters: Booth, Brennan and others

Genre: Angst, drama, romance

Leave me out with the waste  
This is not what I do 

He watches as she makes her way across the room, her long violet dress shimmering under the soft light of the chandelier, flowing over every delicate curve of her body. He's looking at her profile, watching as she greets her best friend with a gentle kiss on the cheek. She turns and he gasps as he notices the long expanse of back left bare as the dress bunches at the base of her spine. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch her then, but he curses himself for these inappropriate thoughts. The woman before him is the closest thing he's had to a friend in years, and those kinds of feelings would jeopardise everything, this he knows. He also gently reminds himself it would put in jeopardy his current relationship, with another rather extraordinary woman. Pangs of guilt hit him like tiny bullets when he realises he hasn't even looked for her yet.

He's been here for around twenty minutes.

For those twenty minutes he tries to account for his behaviour. He got himself a drink, then another one, and then another one…and then he found her. There is where is memory blurs slightly. He can't really remember anything from that point on. He's mostly stalking around the room, keeping out of her line of sight. He isn't sure why – he never has any problems approaching her. But then again it is on this occasion that he has fully realised that she is a woman (not that he hadn't noticed before, but it is usually just playing in the back of his mind). Tonight it is all he can do not to think of it. He doesn't dwell on the whys or the reasons - that is too scary a thought to contemplate. Looking at her now it suddenly comes to him their first meeting. He can recall the time perfectly – a crime scene, it was dark so it must have been late, and that all too familiar smell of death mixed with blood still haunts him. It's hard to forget when you experience it everyday.

"**_You just walked into my crime scene! You probably destroyed evidence!" the petite brunette screamed at the 6-foot tall officer. He towered over her in height, but still seemed to cower before her as she scolded him. _**

"**Who's that?" Seeley Booth asked, flicking on his lighter and holding it to the cigarette pursed between his lips. The officer beside him shrugged and continued to fill out on the pad in the palm of his hand.**

"**Some Jeffersonian big-wig…." He mumbled.**

"**Hmm…" Booth responded taking a drag of his cigarette. He watched her yell at the young officer for a little while before thinking it best to interrupt. He strode over and stuck his hand between them in a gesture to her. She stared down at it for a while, looking disgusted. **

"**Most people shake…" he said with a small smile. **

"**Who are you?" she asked bluntly, while alternately turning her back to him. The officer to his right glanced nervously at Booth, unsure of whether or not she was done with him. Booth jerked his head to the right, indicating it was safe to make a run for it. He scurried off without looking back. **

"**Agent Seeley Booth, FBI," he informed her, lighting up another cigarette. **

"**Don't drop that in my crime scene," she snapped without even looking back. **

"**Your crime scene?"**

"**Until I get these bones moved yes…" **

"**And can I enquire as to your identity?" he asked, tiring of her insolence. **

"**Why? I'll be gone soon and you'll never have to see me again…" she grumbled, brushing over the surface of the skeleton. **

"**Common courteously Bones…I tell you my name, you tell me yours…"**

"**What did you call me?" she frowned, craning her neck around to stare up at him. However he wasn't as easy to intimidate as the other officer. And he had the advantage – he had just found a button to press. **

"**Well if you won't tell me your real name I'm forced to refer to you in some other way…Bones seems appropriate…" he replied, grinning. She stood up, brushing her hands on her loose blue jeans. **

"**Temperance Brennan, I'm a forensic anthropologist with the Jeffersonian," she explained quickly. He smiled again.**

"**I know who you are Bones, I asked for them to get you here."**

**Her brow furrowed. "Then why ask?" she said, confused, "And don't call me Bones."**

"**I thought a formal introduction was needed…"**

**She rolled her eyes, running a hand through her long brown hair. "Why me?"**

"**Because I hear you're the best at this kind of thing. And I want this case rapped up fast…"**

"**I am good at this kind of thing," she affirmed, "But I can't work with imbeciles." **

**He looked a little surprised but she remained firm, glaring at him from behind honey brown bangs. **

"**Fine," he spat (he wasn't this easily annoyed but she seemed to have the knack…), "I'll try to keep the imbeciles away from you."**

"Then I won't be seeing you again anytime soon," she added, with a smirk of her own. He shook his head, suppressing a bitter chuckle, and then on impulse stepped forward so as he was invading her personal space. 

"**And you wonder why people hate squints…if they're all as socially inept as you…" **

**She merely shrugged. "And you wonder why people don't trust the FBI, if they're all as egotistical as you!" **

**He dragged his cigarette towards his lips like it was a lead weight and took a long drag before exhaling in her face. She didn't seem fazed, merely waved her hand to clear the air. **

"**Wow," she said, "That was intimidating." She then turned and walked towards a blue truck parked not far from the scene. But before she disappeared she paused and turned. "You shouldn't really smoke…bad for your health…wouldn't want you to die on us now would we?" **

**He faked a smile and then, which quite surprised him, he made a childish face behind her back.**

"**I'll be seeing you Bones."**

**He never smoked since.**

She seems so different to him now, more human, more real. He rationalises that this is why he longs to touch her – to see if she's as real as she seems. If she's soft or hard. He's resigned himself to the fact he may never know. He stares at her from the sidelines, sipping from his whiskey glass. He feels almost like a voyeur watching her now. Watching as she socialises (a newfound skill which he knows she's growing fond of even if she'll never admit it), he watches as she touches her protégé fondly on the shoulder and kisses his cheek, he watches as she touches the ends of her soft curls, he watches as she absently runs a finger along the brim of the glass and then places it on her lips. For a moment he has to stop, just to take a breath. Everything constricts, his heart stops and he can't breathe. He's terrified but at the same time, a warmth rushes through him which he resigns to the copious amounts of whiskey he seems to have drank. Seeley Booth can't stop watching Temperance Brennan.

He wonders if he'll be able to stop.

It's the wrong kind of place  
To be thinking of you

She's looking for him. She didn't realise it until the twentieth time she had scanned the sea of faces and her friend Angela asked her who she was waiting for. Both already knew the answer. She glances at her a little speechless before fixing her eyes on the door again. An unexpected face enters, one that takes her a little by surprise. And Temperance Brennan is not easily surprised. Cam enters gracefully, shaking a few hands and kissing a few cheeks. She notices Brennan staring and gives a friendly smile and wave. Brennan merely nods, an overwhelming sense of guilt flooding her and she isn't sure why. She hadn't done anything wrong so why should she feel guilty? It wasn't like she is cheating with Booth – it wasn't like they have some sort of secret relationship behind the woman's back. She is merely his friend. So why does she feel like she had something to hide? She hates Psychology. She feels Angela staring at her and she knows that Angela is the one person in this world she cannot hide from. She polishes off the red wine left in her glass and places it in Zack's hand, mumbling something about needed to use the women's restroom. She walks away quickly, unsure of where she is heading. A thousand thoughts seem in her head. Why didn't he arrive with Cam? Where is he? Why hadn't he called her if he wasn't going to arrive? Why should she need him to call her?

She needs to escape and she finds a door and bursts through it into a dimly lit hallway. She bends over, gasping for breath and wiping the back of her hand against her forehead. She realises now just how much alcohol she has consumed in such a short period of time. She paces up and down before noticing a huge bay window at the end of the hall. She approaches it slowly, watching as her reflection gets closer and closer. The woman staring back at her is not one she recognises. Not dressed like this anyway. She wears a long, silk purple evening gown, her hair falls in soft tresses like a waterfall down her shoulders, her eyes are done heavily in black eye make-up and her lips are lined with red gloss. This is the woman she knows. She closes her eyes and leans against the frame sighing heavily. She feels like she wants to cry and she isn't sure why.

When she slowly opens her eyes she is met with Booth's reflection standing a little bit behind her. She is for the second time that evening surprised and gasps, her hand flying to her chest.

"Jesus Booth…you scared me…" she breathes heavily to his reflection. He stands with his hands in his pockets unmoving. She frowns, unable to make out anything definite and turns to face him. He stands before her in a black tuxedo, his tie lying open and his shirt unbuttoned down the neck. His eyes are dark and searing, scrutinising her every movement. She can feel him watching, his eyes travelling the length of her body and then back up to her face. It is only now she realises he is perhaps drunk and perhaps been here quite a while. "How long have you been here?" 

He doesn't answer, merely keeps his head low and rubs his eyes tiredly.

"Booth?"

She's not afraid, more curious as he moves slowly forward and buries his face into the crook of her neck, nuzzling her there. "Are you ok?" she whispers. She wants to respond to this sudden contact, but she's not sure whether that involves pushing him away or holding him closer. She does however know that her body is failing her, as she stands frozen to the spot. He mumbles something into her neck, his word melting on her skin making her tremble. He notices and pulls back to look down at her, but she refuses to meet his gaze.

"Look at me…" his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, the alcohol playing on his breath. He draws lazy circles up her arms and she is surprised that she is letting him do this to her in the hallway of their Christmas party. She is surprised she is letting him do this to her at all. "Look at me."

He pulls her chin gently towards him and she is met with a pair of glazed, dilated pupils. "Why can't I get you off my mind?"

"I…" She doesn't know how to respond. She wants to scream at him to move away, that he has a girlfriend, and she isn't interested. But she can't.

He leans in to kiss her, but she pulls away abruptly. He however is unperturbed and taking her chin in his hand pulls her back to him. This time he is successful and their lips meet in a soft kiss, hers unmoving against his. He keeps his firmly planted on hers before she caves under the pressure and responds to his heat and insistence. Hers part allowing his tongue to dart quickly in, sweeping over hers. She feels like she could melt and he needs to support her by the waist to stop her from falling. He grows tired of this and pushes her back against the windowsill gently lifting her up and sitting her on the edge. Suddenly it feels like his lips are attacking her, relentlessly sucking life from her mouth, his tongue probing every inch of her. His hands in a flurry of excitement push her long dress up her thighs and he moves to her neck, softly biting her there. She gasps at the sensation, her head rolling back against the wall with a gentle thud. It's enough to wake her from her passion filled daze and she forcefully pushes him back, staring at him, confused, stunned, but most of all angry.

"How…how could you?" she spits out, jumping down and fixing her dress. He watches as she storms past him, sprinting back into the ballroom. He turns to the wall and punches it out of sheer frustration, and regrets it almost instantly as a searing pain shoots through his arm.

"Seeley?" a small female voice asks. He turns and his faced with his girlfriend standing in the doorway. "Is everything ok? Have you and Brennan fought?"

He can't say a word. He merely nods. His first crime committed.

He already feels dirty.


End file.
